


When the Blazing Sun Is Gone

by Listenerofshadows



Series: Sander Sides One-Shots [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Local Vampire Recluse befriends Man with Ukulele, Platonic Moxiety, Vampire!Virgil, anxiety attack, human!patton, more news at 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 23:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14681733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: Virgil is a lonely vampire who hasn’t interacted with a human in decades. That all changes when he runs into a man with an ukulele in the park late at night.(Edit: Title changed from "When the Blazing Sun Goes Down" to its original title on Tumblr, "When the Blazing Sun is Gone")





	When the Blazing Sun Is Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Sentence-Starter Prompt: "(I’d love to see where you’d take the first sentence of my current fic lol) Outside of days bleak with rain, Virgil’s interactions were limited entirely to nighttime, when the sun was hidden beneath the horizon and shadows waxed onto empty streets. (-sso)"
> 
> WOW GEE ITS BEEN LIKE ALMOST A MONTH SINCE I FINISHED SOMETHING. I swear I was going to combust into flames if this story went another day uncompleted. I hope you like this Anon, and I’d love to hear about the premise of your fic and how it differs from the direction I took this ;)
> 
> Edit: AJSJdKGL It's been like three months before I noticed I accidentally titled this "When the Blazing Sun Goes Down" when I posted this onto AO3 when the original title on Tumblr was "When the Blazing Sun is Gone"

Outside of days bleak with rain, Virgil’s interactions were limited entirely to nighttime, when the sun was hidden beneath the horizon and shadows waxed onto empty streets. The sky was a blank canvas, with only the moon left to illuminate it with its’ soft light. The light pollution of the city obscured the stars from Virgil’s visage.

He missed the stars. He used to stare up at the sky and traced constellations with his fingers until he finally fell asleep. He remembered back when the city had been just a town—before electricity and plumping was installed. With each new light, the stars grew dimmer and dimmer until they disappeared entirely.

Virgil knew he wasn’t tethered to the city unlike nymphs or ghosts who couldn’t leave their physical connection to this plane of reality. He was free to roam wherever he chose, if he kept his head down and didn’t attract the attention of humans. He stayed in the city, however, because there were too many risks involved if he roamed outside it.

The city was constantly shifting and morphing into a different entity with every decade that passed, but it forever remained the city. Virgil knew what dangers to expect—where was the best places to feed—the quickest way to cut across the city to his home before the sun’s rays hit the sky. Who knew what went on outside the city? Virgil didn’t know. He refused to read the news, preferring to keep to his little five-mile radius of the city that he claimed as territory.

There was no need to know what went on the world—he had been alive long enough to know humans were always the same, no matter the century. While others of his kind loved to stir up trouble with the humans, just the thought of socially interacting with a human made his stomach churn.

They always had the wrong impression about the supernatural—especially involving his kind.  It’s why Virgil always put on a cold, standoffish façade when he was forced to deal with others.  It kept him safe from the inevitable heartbreak that came once they discovered what he truly was. A monster, a creature cursed to wander in the darkness.

Virgil stared up at the moon, sighing as he pulled up his hoodie. The moon was a cold, passive ruler of the nighttime realm. Virgil liked that about the moon. For even humans dread the sun—slathering sunscreen all over their skin and wearing sunglasses to protect their eyes. But one didn’t have to fear such things from the moon.

“It’s quiet out tonight,” He observed to the moon.

The moon stared back. That was alright, their conversations tended to be one-sided. It happened when your only friend was a chunk of space rock orbiting around the Earth’s orbit millions of miles away from where you were.

Virgil’s stomach gurgled, reminding him of his purpose tonight. It had been several days since he feasted. Which was perfectly fine—he didn’t need to eat every day. His kind were akin to snakes, a meal could satisfy them for up to a week if it had been an ample one. It unfortunately had not been the case, forcing Virgil to crawl out of his dwelling and onto the streets to replenish his hunger.

Lately, he struggled finding meals around his usual haunts. Usually the streets were crawling with feral cats and stray dogs—and they were perfect for his needs. Nobody would miss a stray animal or three. The humans must’ve been getting better at controlling the number of animals inhabiting his territory.

He stood outside the park grounds, rubbing his fingers against the edges of his frayed hoodie. He didn’t like wandering around the park—the woods were full of spirits and ghosts who loved to play tricks in the late hours of the night. But he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t feed soon, he might be desperate enough to seek out humans—and that would be bad.

Humans didn’t like one of their own kind being messed with—even if they weren’t related or a part of their coven. They were like werewolves in that regard. Not to mention they’ve gotten awfully good at identifying things like DNA. It didn’t even matter if he didn’t kill the human there would still be a hunt for his head. It was just the same; Virgil could never bring himself to completely drain a human.

It was why his coven had abandoned him, after all. They presented him a human girl, as a part of the initiation ceremony. It was the last step he needed to accomplish to be a full-fledged member. Virgil, the coward that he was, couldn’t do it. He took one look at the fear in her eyes and froze. The others taunted and jeered at him, but Virgil refused to budge.

“You’ll never last long if you don’t learn to grow a pair.” They sneered at him as they tossed out into the streets.

From that moment on, Virgil lived on pure spite and vent-up rage. He lived to prove he could survive on his own without resorting to killing a human life.

Virgil took a stroll down the pathway, heading towards the wooded areas of the park, where a gravel trail for runners and bikers was located. He walked alongside the path, on the soft tufts of grass that concealed his presence better than the crunch of the gravel.

In the few hours he wandered around the park, he managed to catch only one measly squirrel. Wildlife creatures were much harder to catch than strays on the streets. It was yet another reason why he preferred hunting outside the park.

He heard the thrumming long before his nose caught scent of another person in the park. It was a gentle and lighthearted sound—too high pitched to belong to a guitar. Curious, Virgil ventured closer, tracking the sound to an occupant on a park bench underneath a dim lamppost.

It was a human male—perhaps in his late twenties? The light of the lamppost reflected against his glasses, revealing a crack on the side of the right lense. A grey cardigan hugged his shoulders, too tattered to be worn properly. Despite his ragged appearance, the man’s face was lit with a smile as his fingers moved across the instrument on his lap.

It looked like a guitar built for a small child or perhaps a dwarf or a fae. Despite its’ size the man still played it expertly. His right foot bounced against the sidewalk, creating a beat that correlated with the melody of the instrument.

After a few chords, the man opened his mouth and sang a nonsensical song about a mother asking her son for a house of gold. Despite the happy upbeat of the song—the lyrics were full of melancholy.

Virgil choked, tears streaming down his cheeks. Before he turned, music had been his everything. He tickled the ivory keys for hours, hoping to drive away the anxiety that gnawed at his chest. How long had it been since Virgil played, much less listened to music? Years, decades? God he didn’t know.

The ukulele stopped.

“Hey, you can come out, if you’d like,” The man said, warm and reassuring, “I promise I don’t bite.”

 _But I can._  Virgil thought grimly.

It was a trap—it had to be. Why else would a human be in the park at this time of the night? He had to be a hunter. The humans were onto him, first the cleanup of the strays around his corner of the city, now a monster hunter sat on a park bench, ready to exterminate him. What was Virgil still doing here, standing behind a tree? He needed to run, now. Before the man shifted tactics and directly attacked him.

Except, the man didn’t do that. He waited a few moments before starting up another tune. This song, Virgil knew well. His mother hummed it, holding his baby brother against her chest as she caressed his hair. He muttered the words under his breath, back when he could still see the stars.

Now he mouthed it along with the stranger’s, “Then you show your little light, twinkle twinkle through the night.”

It took a few more songs before Virgil approached the man. His movement, slow and stiff. The man glanced at him, smiling, as he messed around with the instrument. Virgil sat on the opposite end of the bench, perched on the edge of the armrest because he did not have time to worry about what was or was not a chair.

“Hello there,” He said cheerfully, a few minutes of the two peacefully coaxing on the bench together.

“H—hey.” Virgil muttered, trying to hide the fact he jumped at the sound of the man addressing him.

“My name is Patton, what’s yours, kiddo?” He hastily followed with, “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to!”

He scrunched his face. He hadn’t told a living soul his name—much less interacted with one in a long while. His name was important to him—it was the only keepsake that remained from before the turn. Sometimes he was afraid he’d forget it—his life as a human was hazy. It was very easy to forget he hadn’t always been a vampire—that he hadn’t always been this monster.

“You can call me Virge.” He let out eventually.

“Awesome!” The man grinned, “I have to admit, Virge, I wasn’t expecting anyone else this time of the night—not that Winnie and I mind the company or anything!”

As Virgil examined his gaze, he realized something. Patton must be thinking he was a teenage runaway. It was just another side effect of his curse—mortals presumed he was far younger than he was. It happened when you were bitten at the ripe old age of eighteen. While others tended to be condescending, Patton looked merely concerned.

“Winnie?” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“This little beaut right here,” Patton tapped the instrument, “Don’t know what I’d do without her!”

“What is she?” Virgil breathed, before rubbing his neck sheepishly, “I mean it. What is it?”

“Why, Winnie’s an ukulele,” Patton informed. If he thought it was odd that Virgil didn’t know that, he didn’t let on. “It’s like a mini guitar—but it’s easier to learn!”

He fondled the instrument fondly, “Do you play any instruments?”

“I used to, um, play the piano,” Virgil licked his lips, “But it—it was a long time ago. I probably forgot how to play it by now.”

“Hey, you’ll never know unless you try,” Patton said, “Playing instruments is like riding a bike; I bet if you picked it up again, you’d surprise yourself by how much you remember!”

“I doubt that,” He snorted. Living for over a century muddled up your brain after a while. Patton, however, didn’t know that.

“No really I mean it!” Patton grinned, his gaze lovingly fixated on his instrument.

Virgil frowned, “Even if I picked it up again—it’s like I can haul around a piano with me.”

“Aw, that is true.” Patton’s grin slipped for a second before coming back in full force, “Would you like me to show you how to play the ukulele?”

“Wh—what?”

“See, playing music always brightens my mood—maybe it’ll brighten yours!”

“Who says I need my mood lifted?” Virgil growled.

“Well, it’s true we just met,” Patton softly admitted, “But most kids your age aren’t wandering around a public park by themselves at 2am.”

Virgil’s breath hitched. Did he still think he was a teenage runaway? Or did he know the truth? Virgil tired scrambling off the bench, but his foot caught on the nook of the arm rest and he toppled over. His head hit the pavement with a thump, and if he was human, the fall might’ve been more severe. Instead, white lights danced like fairies across his vision as his lungs worked overtime to try supplying oxygen to his body.

Breath out, breath in, breath out, breath in—it wasn’t enough! He wasn’t getting enough breath!

A soft, hesitant hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Patton said in a soothing voice, “I’m not going to report you, I promise—just take deep breaths with me.”

If he had enough air flow, Virgil would’ve snorted. He didn’t trust Patton for a second. He, however, complied to his wishes. He knew from previous experiences that if he didn’t stop hyperventilating, he’d pass out and losing consciousness was the last thing Virgil wanted at this point.

“Why wouldn’t you report me?” He said, after his breath finally evened out.

Virgil ended up in the system once before—he quickly learned that no one took the words of what they assumed to be a teenage delinquent seriously. His cries about being a legal adult went ignored, and when they couldn’t find evidence of his long-gone parents, they simply threw him into foster care. Escaping had been absolute hell. He didn’t want to experience that again.

“Because I know kids don’t usually runaway without a reason.” Patton responded.

Virgil propped up on his elbows and looked up at the man who stared into the distance. There was a weight behind Patton’s words—an unspoken confirmation that the man knew this fact from experience.

Patton, growing aware of Virgil’s gaze, quickly broke into a smile and awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I know we just met, but if you need someone to talk to—”

“There isn’t anything to talk about.” Virgil snapped.

Because well it was the truth. He roamed this earth longer any mortal currently alive. His parents had long since perished, along with his siblings and all the family and friends he’d ever known. He envied vampires that were turned older in life—they were at least treated with respect. Virgil was instead belittled for his youthful appearance.

He expected Patton to start pressuring him for details, or yell at him for being “disrespectful” to his elders. Instead the man simply nodded, taking his refusal in stride.

“Well then,” He exclaimed, picking himself off the ground. He then extended a hand downwards towards Virgil, “You’re welcome to keep me company—it does get lonely even with Winnie.”

Virgil reached upwards to take Patton’s hand before hesitating. Virgil lived in the city for over two centuries, yet he never came across a human so accepting and kind to a stranger. Oh, he’s met plenty of nice people, but there was always some sort of motive behind their words. He wanted to cast Patton in the same light as the rest of them, but something made him pause.

It was true he’d only known the man for barely fifteen minutes, if that, but something about Patton was so…genuine. The possibility of Patton being a siren or a charmer crossed Virgil’s mind, but his scent was too human. Fellow supernatural beings rarely eluded Virgil’s heightened senses, although the “what-if” plagued his already rattled mind. Supernatural creature or not, Virgil should just leave. Patton’s act would crumble as soon as he discovered Virgil’s nature just like they all did.

Virgil’s damned curiosity kept him from leaving, however. He wanted to know how exactly this stranger broke down his centuries old walls in the matter of mere minutes. It was just like that saying; his curiosity would kill him like the alley cats that ventured too close to his grasp. He was sure of it.

“Are you sure?” Virgil said finally, clasping the other’s hand.

“Absolutely!” Patton beamed, hoisting Virgil onto the ground, “I can still show you how to play Winnie, if you’d like.”

“Alright,” Virgil permitted.

Patton turned to retrieve the ukulele, and Virgil rolled his eyes behind his back. He’d never seen a human so energetic at this time of the night. If he didn’t know, he’d mistake Patton as a fellow vampire. While the introduction of inventions such as electricity has caused humans to increasingly abandon sleep (much to Virgil’s chagrin) they tended to be drowsy around 2am. That, or they were intoxicated by alcohol—making them easy targets.

While Virgil only hunted animals, it was very hard at times to ignore the instincts woven in his DNA. Especially when humans made themselves such easy targets. You’d think living in a world inhabited by dangerous immortal beings would cause one to be cautious in the nighttime. Instead, humans were way too relaxed. Patton was one such an example.

He sat on the bench seat once more, cradling the ukulele in one arm while gesturing to Virgil to sit down next down to him. Virgil complied, eyes still ever cautious and wary of Patton’s movements.

“Is there any particular song you would like to learn how to play?” Patton asked.

Virgil found himself startled by the question. He’d expected Patton to pick out a song for him to learn without his input. As much as he enjoyed playing piano, he’d never been the one to personally pick out the songs he’d wanted to learn. It was always his instructor who picked the songs because they were entrusted by his parents to know what was best for Virgil.

“I want to learn that song you were playing earlier.” He said.

“Which one?” Patton tilted his head, “House of Gold?”

“No, uh, TwinkleTwinkleLittleStar.” Virgil mumbled quickly, ducking his head.

It’d been a while since he interacted with human culture, but even he knew that one was widely regarded as a lullaby for mothers to lull their youngsters to sleep. Patton didn’t patronize him for the song choice, however.

“Oh, good! That one is easy to learn!” Patton smiled before launching into an explanation about the various chords.

Patton demonstrated, before handing the ukulele off to Virgil. He held it out for Virgil as if presenting a magical artifact of great significance. Virgil took it from him, careful to handle the ukulele with the same reverence. He didn’t know what’d he do if he managed to break the man’s ukulele by mishandling it the wrong way.

It took half a dozen tries, but through Patton’s patient coaching, Virgil eventually manages to strum out a decent rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Stretching his fingers to form the chords had felt weird at first. His fingers stung from the applied pressure on the strings, and Patton had to keep reminding him of the correct chord switches. He didn’t want to admit it to Patton, but after a while it was becoming ridiculous hard to keep a grin off his face.

He had no idea of much he missed getting lost in the music, letting everything melt away until it was just him and the instrument and nothing else. All his worries disappeared as he let himself get lost in the chords of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

The moment didn’t last forever. Towards the end of the song, his stomach let out a growl, reminding him of his purpose in the park. The squirrel had been nowhere near enough for Virgil’s appetite. That was alright, Virgil already grew accustomed to ignoring hunger pains, even with the alluring scent of Patton’s blood half a foot away from him.

“Are you hungry, kiddo?” Patton asked, chuckling a bit.

Virgil paled, clutching onto the ukulele.

“I’m fine.” Virgil responded. But his stomach refused to go unheard, letting out another growl.

Patton frowned, before rummaging through his backpack.

“Here,” He offered a granola bar.

Virgil stared down at the bar. While the belief that his kind could only consume blood was technically untrue, there was a reason why vampires tended to avoid human food. They could eat it, yes, but it was like a wolf eating berries. Nutritional value could be gleaned from the food, but it wasn’t enough to completely sustain a vampire.

Virgil couldn’t eat the granola bar in good conscious—especially after how kind Patton had been. If he ate the granola bar, it’d make the man happy. However, Virgil couldn’t allow the man to waste his food on Virgil. The man needed it more than him.

“Really, I’m alright.” Virgil gritted his teeth, pushing the bar away, “I’m used to it—"

“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean it’s right,” Patton interrupted, before giving Virgil a look, “Please, Virge, I have enough food, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay!” He snarled, causing the man to flinch from the volume.

The action didn’t go unnoticed by Virgil. He knew this was a bad idea. He should’ve left sooner. Hell, he shouldn’t have interacted with Patton at all.

“Look, I know you’re trying to be nice and all,” Virgil spat, desperately trying to slip back into his callous façade, “But I can’t eat it, because—”

He paused, swallowing a lump in his throat.  _You can do this, Virgil. Say it quick, like you’re ripping off a band-aid._

“because I’m a vampire, okay?!” He shut his eyes, unable to witness Patton’s reaction. His closed eyelids weren’t enough to keep the tears from streaming down his face.

Virgil’s breath stilled. He expected horrified screaming, angry cursing or hysterical laughter to come out of the man’s lips any moment. None of that happened.

“Hey,” Patton said softly, “would you like a hug?”

Shocked, Virgil opened his eyes to find the man holding his arms out. Wordlessly, Virgil launched himself into Patton’s embrace, knocking the ukulele off his lap and onto the ground. Patton didn’t comment on it, instead he rubbed circles in Virgil’s back. Virgil can’t remember the last time he’s hugged someone. He had grown so used being alone, that warmth of Patton’s hug caused him to cry harder.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Virgil asked suspiciously, finally withdrawing from the hug, “Most humans are worried that they’re my next meal.”

“Well, I figure if you were going to drink my blood, you would’ve done it by now.” Patton laughed, “You seem like a good vampire to me.”

“Gee, I didn’t think there was such a thing as a good vampire.” Virgil commented sarcastically.

“Of course there is!” Patton insisted, “It’s silly to think that all vampires are evil, just like it’s silly to think all humans are good!”

“You don’t really know me,” Virgil pointed out, “I could’ve committed all sorts of evil without your knowledge.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was panicking. He’s never received a positive reaction to his true nature before. It had to be fake—maybe this was all a cruel dream and Patton was merely a figment of his imagination. God what did that say about his life?

Regardless, he didn’t know the first thing about maintaining a relationship beyond acquaintances or conducting business. It’s been a couple centuries since he’s had a friend. Yes, he had barely known Patton for a couple hours, but he can already tell Patton was the kind that tried being friends with every stranger he meets.

“True, I don’t know,” Patton admitted, “But you looked so sad and lonely standing by that tree—and besides, I know what it’s like to be judged by people for your outward appearance.”

“You do?” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

Patton nodded, letting out a strained laugh.

“Yup! People tend to look down homeless people like me,” Patton picked up Winnie from off the ground, “but that’s okay! That’s why I have Winnie to keep me company.”

Patton smiled—but it looked fake compared to his others. Like he was trying to cover up years of pain with a single smile. It astonished Virgil to think of all the suffering the man had gone through, and yet he chose to remain cheerful despite it all. Patton chose to be kind to strangers like Virgil because he knew what it was like to hurt.  He chose to be positive when he had every right to be angry with the world.

Virgil clenched his fists. He would protect Patton. It was the least he could do to repay the man’s kindness.

“You also have me.” Virgil blurted out.

“What?” Patton looked up from the ukulele.

“Me.” Virgil coughed, “I’ll also keep both you and Winnie company.”

This time, Patton’s smile was sincere—stretching from ear to ear in gratitude


End file.
